Kokinshu Day for 2016

The Kokinshu is the first Imperial collection of waka poetry from Japan.  It was edited about 905 and contains 1111 poems, almost all of them in the waka form; what today we refer to as tanka.  This form has a long history in Japan.  The form is remarkably stable consisting of five lines, or 'ku', in the following pattern: 5-7-5-7-7 syllables.  The stability of the form has lasted for about 1400 years and continues to be a central mode of poetic expression in Japan.

I have set aside a day to pay homage to the Kokinshu, also known as the Waka Kokinshu, primarily because there are two translations into English that replicate the syllabic structure of the original.  The two translations are:

Kokin Wakashu, transalted by Helen McCullough, and
Kokinshu, translated by Laurel Rasplica Rodd and Mary Catherine Henkenius.

Both of them are excellent.  And both of them, remarkably, retain the 5-7-5-7-7 syllabic structure in their translations into English.  What this means for those of us interested in English syllabic verse is that we have two anthologies of syllabic verse, written by competent scholars, excellent translators, who were sensitive to the significance that all of these poems share a common form.  In an era when many free verse poets are form deaf, this is a significant accomplishment.

My feeling is that both of these translations can serve as manuals for how to construct effective syllabic verse, and tanka in particular, in English.  And that is the primary reason I have set aside a day to celebrate this anthology.  

I slightly prefer the McCullough translation.  But price is an obstacle.  At almost $100 the McCullough version is beyond the reach of many.  In contrast, the Rodd translation is priced reasonably; so if price matters (and it almost always does), go with the Rodd translation.

Just to give an idea of the difference between the two, here is tanka 210 from both translations:

Now they call again
above the mists of autumn --
those flocks of wild geese
who took their leave of us
merging into springtime haze.

(McCullough, page 54)

the voices of the
wild geese that were swallowed up
by the mists of spring
have returned   to penetrate
the autumn haze and sound again

(Rodd, page 108)

My feeling is that McCullough has a surer grasp of lineation.  Notice how in the Rodd translation line 1 to line 2 is a runon; ending line 1 with 'the' undermines the basic syllabic shape.  Rodd tends to use this kind of enjambment and it is the main reason why I consider her translation not quite as efficacious as the McCullough translation.  I don't want to exaggerate; the Rodd translation is really fine and well worth reading.  On the other hand, the syllabic shape is more clearly delineated in the McCullough translation.  It's too bad about the price of the McCullough version.  My hope is that Stanford University Press will issue this translation in paperback and make it more accessible to a wider audience.

So take a moment today to look at the Kokinshu in English and, if you feel inspired, you might want to compose a syllabic tanka of your own.

Etheree Day for 2016

Today is set aside to celebrate the Etheree syllabic form.  I have a great fondness for this form: its simplicity, its flexibility, and the way it starts slow and then blossoms into fullness are attributes that offer a poet many opportunities.  A number of my books use the form:

'Poems of Place' contain a series of 'Tea Etheree', most of which begin with the word 'tea'.

'Safe Harbor' contains an Etheree series I call 'Cathedrals'.

'Even in Winter' has Etheree poems scattered through the collection.

The Etheree is a form I have explored extensively and continue to do so.  It seems to have endless possibilities.  Here is one I wrote recently:

From a Hermit's Perspective

Place
Stasis
Quince blossoms
From dusk to dusk
Boulder in a stream
Butterfly migrations
The rise and fall of nations
Enacting my daily routines
The waking world, the world of dreams,
The desert hermits from long ago
Seasons of summer, seasons of snow,
Stability as the stars ebb and flow

Syllabic Tanka Day for 2016

Greetings:

Today is January 22nd.  I bet you didn't know that this is Syllabic Tanka Day!  Hooray.  It seems fitting that now that I'm plunging into Genji Monogatari, which has hundreds of tanka/waka scattered through the book, that I take a moment to celebrate this form which has been so rewarding for so many poets and readers down through the centuries.  In the anglosphere tanka has not yet taken root; instead what you have are people writing free verse poems (usually five lines) and then labeling them tanka for no clear reason.  That's OK; it's what is happening.  But for those of us who want to really engage with traditional Japanese tanka the syllabic count is essential.  Thankfully a small number of poets are slowly learning the syllabic shape and using it skillfully in English.

Here is a tank from my collection 'Tanka River', a landscape:

The hours before dawn,
Before the sun has risen,
Before the stars fade,
Before the world rushes in,
The hours of the morning calm


And here is one from a sequence on love:

By the ocean's edge
I wait patiently for more
Memories of you,
Riding the incoming waves
Or the last rays of the sun


And here is a tanka from one of the first tanka collections in English, 'Wind Five Folded', edited by Jane Reichhold:

Walking east, I watch
The moon rise, huge, smokey orange,
Almost full, alone.
Walking home, I'm almost used
To you being gone again.

John Gribble, page 65


And another one from 'Wind Five Folded':

Ginkgos are boring
Until autumn golding and
Persimmons taste tart --
The vague words of your language
Often mean less than they seem

Mimi Walter Hinman, page 77


Slowly a cache of syllabic tanka is being written.  My feeling is that the less a poet has taken on the narrow esthetics of official haiku, the more accessible tanka becomes to a poet.  I see tanka as more closely related to the Psalms and to hymnody than to free verse haiku.  There is the same quiet contemplation, the same sense of steady rhythm meant for chanting or singing. 

But to find these tanka you have to look beyond official tanka organizations and magazines because most of them (all?) were started by people committed to free verse and completely allergic to syllabics.  They seem also to have absorbed the nihinjinron based mythos of the specialness of the Japanese language.  But, again, that's OK.  They get to do that.  And we get to connect with the Japanese tradition by counting on our fingers: 5-7-5-7-7.

Syllabic Tanka Day for 2015: The Translations of Edwin A. Cranston

Syllabic Tanka Day for 2015

Tanka is one of the oldest continuously practiced syllabic forms in the world.  It has a written history of about 1400 years; but I suspect its origins go back into the mists of time.  In Japan it is the central poetic form out of which both renga and haiku have emerged.

Over all the centuries that tanka have been written the syllabic shape has remained the same: five lines with a syllable count of 5-7-5-7-7.  This generates a beautiful rhythm which always reminds me of paddling down a stream in a canoe. 

The transmission of tanka to the west has been rough; it has not generated nearly as much interest as haiku.  And interest in specifically syllabic tanka is even smaller.  There are a number of reasons for this; a general tilt among modern poets towards free verse, the lack of a strong poetic voice in ELT who takes a syllabic approach to act as an example for others, and the lack of any organizational support for a syllabic approach to ELT.  There are probably others as well.  Still, there are a small number of poets who have taken a syllabic, traditional, approach to ELT.  And there a number of resources that can assist those interested in a syllabic approach to ELT; primarily these are the superb translations of Japanese tanka into English which adhere to the syllabic shape of the original Japanese.

The translations of Edwin A. Cranston are unsurpassed in this regard.  Cranston has published two volumes containing tanka translations.  The first is A Waka Anthology Volume One: The Gem-Glistening Cup.  This volume contains translations of poems from the earliest sources through the Manyoshu and a little bit beyond.  By far the largest section is devoted to the Manyoshu.  This is a very rich anthology.  I took a full year to read it.  The translations are preceded by the translator’s discussion of the sources.  And individual poets are preceded by remarks about their overall output.  And individual poems are preceded by notes that illuminate references and allusions.  It might seem that all this material from the translator would be burdensome.  Remarkably, it is not.  The notes are informative and are not overburdened with technical terms.  They have a tone that resembles having a learned Uncle by your side, assisting you as you go through the material. 

Volume Two is called A Waka Anthology: Volume Two: Grasses of Remembrance.  This volume is divided into two sections, which are published as separate books; Part A and Part B.  Part A contains translations from the court commissioned anthologies of waka (aka tanka) which have exerted such a huge influence on Japanese poetry.  The translations contain selections from a number of these including Kokinshu, Gosenshu, and Goshuishu.

Part B contains translations of all the waka found in The Tale of Genji.  Genji contains 795 waka.  The commentary places the waka into the context of the story.  This is a treasure chest of waka verse.

Cranston takes a basically syllabic approach to his translations.  Cranston allows himself more freedom regarding lineation than Helen McCullough did in her translation of the complete Kokinwakashu (I believe Cranston studied with McCullough).  But the syllabic count of the original has a central place in Cranston’s approach.  Here is an example from Part B:

Dweller by the bay,

To those sleeves that draw the brine

Try comparing this:

A night garment sealed away

From the reach of the road of waves.

(Page 761)

The count is 5-7-5-7-8; a close rendering of the original syllabic shape.  One observation; I have noticed that often when Cranston translates his line count will be a few counts longer than the traditional rather than shorter.  This is important information because it runs counter to the minimalist views held by those who have adopted the nihonjinron view of the Japanese language.  In general, I have observed that translators of Japanese poetry, particularly traditional waka/tanka, into English do not fall into minimalism.

For those who are attracted to the traditional syllabic approach to tanka, I recommended these volumes.  They will help you, guide you, and offer you exemplars.  Structurally they offer many examples of tanka in various configurations; such as the single sentence, the two part type, several sentences, and juxtaposition.  They also show the lushness of the tanka tradition and its commitment to the full range of human emotions.

The one drawback is the price: these are expensive volumes.  If they are beyond your budget, and for many they will be, particularly the second volume, you might want to see if you can borrow them from a library using interlibrary loan.  They are published by Stanford University Press which has an execrable track record for making material like this available to a larger audience.  It appears, like many University Presses, that they are not really interested in granting access to this material by those who might reside outside the University.  That’s too bad.  It is my hope that at some point in the future Stanford will make these specific volumes, and other related volumes, available at a more reasonable price.

Still, I have seen used copies every now and then at Amazon offered at a reasonable price; so if you have an interest you might want to tag them and grab a reasonably priced copy when it appears.  Act fast; I have seen them come and go very quickly.

Overall, I am optimistic about syllabic tanka, meaning traditional tanka, eventually taking root as ELT.  It is a slow process, but it strikes me that the translations have given ELT a rich trove of syllabic tanka upon which ELT can be nourished.

A Waka Anthology: Volume 1

The Gem-Glistening Cup

Translated with a Commentary and Notes by

Edwin A. Cranston

ISBN: 9780804731577

Paperback

$49.95

A Waka Anthology: Volume 2

Grasses of Remembrance

(Part A and Part B sold together)

Translated with a Commentary and Notes by

Edwin A. Cranston

ISBN: 9780804748254

Hardback

$180.00

Fibonacci Day for 2014!

Fibonacci Day – 2014

Guess what?  It’s Fibonacci Day.  I like to give a toast to Fibonacci poetry on this day because it is November 23^rd.  Numerically that is 11/23, and 1-1-2-3 is the syllable count for the first four lines of a Fibonacci poem.  Kind of neat how that works out.

The Fibonacci form has an exuberant feeling to me.  With its irregular count it communicates a kind of spontaneity.  The overall shape of the poem is to open up as each line become longer and longer.  It is a playful form.

Here is a Fibonacci I wrote recently:

Piercing the Veil

Warmth

Fall
No mist
October
Yet summer lingers
An old song on the radio
While I am having a scone and a cup of coffee
Slowly I wade into the stream of time to visit someone I danced with long ago.

Take a moment to compose a Fibonacci.  Here is the line count: 1-1-2-3-5-8-13-21-34, etc.  Most Fibonacci poems I have seen are six or seven lines; but a few have gone into the longer count lines. 

 

I like to use the opening very short lines, the first four lines with the count 1-1-2-3, to give the seasonal and/or temporal setting.  You can use words of time and words that mark the seasons; many of these are very short.  Months, for example, like ‘March’, ‘May’, and ‘June’, are good.  Some months are two syllables; April, July, and August.  Some are three count words; September through December.  You can also use terms like ‘First Month’, instead of ‘January’, so that you can set the time in the opening lines if the time is January. 

Other simple markers are things like ‘cold’, ‘hot’, ‘warm’.  Time of day is also a good topic for the opening lines; like ‘dusk’, ‘dawn’, ‘afternoon’, ‘mid-day’, ‘night’, etc.

You get the idea, which is basically to use the opening lines as seasonal and temporal designators.  With the longer lines you can then move into the more specific topic and specific focus of the poem you are writing.  In this way the poem’s focus moves from broad general strokes to the more specific.  I like the flow that such a Fibonacci produces.

Of course this is only one approach to the Fibonacci and it is in some ways linked to the esthetic I have imbibed from the Japanese poetic tradition where seasonal designation plays such a significant role.  The Fibonacci is a new form and has no weight of history behind it; there is no official Fibonacci Poetry Society or designated keeper of the Fibonacci true esthetic.  This means that when we write in the Fibonacci form we can take it whatever direction we like without feeling like we have violated an inherited tradition.  Personally, I enjoy applying some of the esthetic principles from other traditions to the Fibonacci, including the use of rhyme and seasonal or temporal placement.  Transferring these approaches from a form like haiku and tanka to the Fibonacci seem to me a viable strategy; at least it works for me.  Perhaps you might also find it efficacious. 

Just a few thoughts to share on Fibonacci Day.  

 

 

 

 

 

Syllabic Sonnet Day for 2013

Syllabic Sonnet Day for 2013

Greetings:

Today is Syllabic Sonnet Day; a day put aside to celebrate English language sonnets that are syllabically constructed and shaped.  The shift from a metrical to a syllabic sonnet is a subtle one.  When reading a syllabic sonnet it might not feel all that different from reading a metrical sonnet.  This is because, I think, the two different approaches can produce overlapping results.  I mean by this that a sonnet which the poet constructed syllabically might also be metrically consistent.  By that I mean a line of ten syllables can also be a line of iambic pentameter.

The shift has more to do with the focus of the poet when shaping the sonnet.  For the syllabic sonneteer it is the syllable count of the line which is the primary factor shaping the poem; plus other factors such a rhyme scheme and grammatical structure.  For the metrical sonneteer it is the steady rhythm of the iambs that is the primary focus. 

An interesting consequence of this shift of focus is that the tendency for the syllabic sonneteer will be to have a line count that is determined by the syllables and will rarely deviate from that ten syllable count.  There will, naturally, be exceptions, but the weight will be on the ten count.  The syllabic sonneteer has the option, through using various types of feet substituting for the iambs, to vary the line length in terms of the syllable count as long as the metrical count remains the same.  Again, this is a subtle difference, one that might not be apparent at first.

Personally, I have found a syllabic approach to the sonnet to be rewarding.  It creates a flow that is more conversational.  When this is combined with a traditional rhyme scheme the effect is, to my ear, musical in the way a recitative is musical. 

So let’s take a moment to honor the Queen of English language poetry forms; the sonnet in all its permutations.

Richard Wright Day for 2013: My View of Richard Wright's Place in English Language Haiku

My View of Richard Wright’s Place in English Language Haiku

Today is Richard Wright Day.  This year the day also happens to be Thanksgiving Day.  (For those reading this blog who are not from the U.S., Thanksgiving Day is a national holiday where families and friends gather together to celebrate by having a feast; often turkey is the centerpiece of the feast.  Stores are closed, for the most part, on this day; although that is being whittled away under the pressure of commercialism.  This national holiday has a variable date.  It is celebrated on the fourth Thursday of November, so it is unusual that it would coincide with the other remembrances that are falling on this day.)

In addition, today is also Hanukkah, a Jewish festival of lights.  Like the national holiday, Thanksgiving, Hanukkah has a variable date in terms of the standard solar calendar we all use.  That is because the date of Hanukkah is based on the lunar/solar Jewish calendar.  So it is very unusual that both Thanksgiving and Hanukkah would fall on the same day.

And finally, on this day some Japanese honor the haiku poet Basho.

So it seems to me to be a particularly auspicious day to consider Richard Wright, his haiku, and what he contributed, and continues to contribute to that genre, and to poetry in general.  Wright died in France in 1960 on this day; that would make it 53 years ago.  As is now well-known, during the last 18 months of his life, Wright took to the craft of Haiku, composing something like 4,000.  From this large collection Wright culled 817, but it took more than thirty years before Wright’s collection was published.

Since the publication of his book Haiku: This Other World, in 1998, Wright’s reputation as a poet has steadily increased.  Numerous articles have appeared analyzing various aspects of his haiku; entire books devoted to the subject have been published and others are awaiting publication.  His haiku have been frequently anthologized, not only in genre specific anthologies of ELH, but also in anthologies of 20^th century poetry and anthologies of English language poetry in general.  Teachers of haiku in Japan have, at times, used Wright’s haiku to illustrate an approach to ELH taken by some poets in the English speaking world.  It is true that there have also been some critical essays.  This is to be expected, even encouraged.  Given the wide range of approaches to haiku among ELH practitioners it would be strange if there were not some criticism.  Still, in general it appears to me that the appreciation for Wright’s output has steadily increased with time.  It is my view that it will continue to do so.

For me the primary gift that Wright offers ELH is a merging of the English language poetry tradition with the form and esthetic of the Japanese haiku.  Wright accomplished this in a manner that is so lucid and with such ease that if someone were to read Wright’s haiku who was unaware of its Japanese origins, I think such a reader would draw the conclusion that haiku is a native English language form.  There is no sense of stress or strain; Wright appears to be completely at ease within the confines and structural demands of syllabic haiku.

I’d like to illustrate my point with some examples.  Consider Wright’s use of rhyme.  About sixty out of the 817 use rhyme; that’s about 7% of the haiku in the collection, a modest amount.  Sometimes the rhyme is explicit, sometimes slant.  Here are some examples:

222

Holding too much rain,

The tulip stoops and spills it,

Then straightens again.

Here lines 1 and 3 rhyme.  The strength of the rhyme depends partly on the dialect of English spoken; in some dialects ‘again’ is a complete rhyme to ‘rain’, and in some dialects it will be slightly off.  But in either case it will be heard, I think, as the closing semi-vowel ‘n’ is distinctly audible.  The effect of the rhyme is pleasing without being overstated.

547

A layer of snow

Is pulling the mountains nearer,

Making them smaller

Here it is lines 2 and 3 that rhyme.  Again the rhyme is understated, using the ‘er’ sound.  Both of the closing words for lines 2 and 3 are also two syllables and there is also a resonance to the word ‘layer’ in line 1.  I have noticed that Wright seems to favor this ‘er’ rhyme; it shows up in a number of his haiku (see 486 and 495).  The ‘er’ sound is one of those closing sounds that has a gentle effect, one that is grasped by the ear, but does not have that definiteness, or heaviness, that mark rhymes that are more strongly felt, such as ‘light/night/bright’, or ‘dream/stream/scheme’.  Perhaps this is because most words that end with an ‘er’ sound are trochees and, it seems to me, that Wright favors this kind of rhythm, though there are exceptions to that as we shall see.

One last example of rhyme:

805

One crow on a limb;

Another goes to join him,

Then both fly away.

Here lines 1 and 2 have a strong rhyme; limb/him.  Each line ends in an iamb, giving the haiku an overall rhythmic unity.

In these examples of rhyme, Wright has thoroughly integrated the traditional use of end-rhyme in English language verse into the haiku form.  The merging is done skillfully; the rhymes don’t sound like slogans, ads, or nursery rhymes.  They have the effect of clarifying the syllabic form and providing a moderate sense of rhythmic pulse; like a bar-line in music.

Wright also effectively uses traditional techniques such as metaphor, simile and personification.

148

As still as death is,

Under a circling buzzard,

An autumn village.

Here we have an example of simile.  The stillness of the village is compared to the stillness of death.  This is tied seasonally to autumn, when things are dying.  The image is further deepened by the appearance of the buzzard.  Though the buzzard is moving, it is moving in a circle, rather than going to a specific location.  This hovering is in itself a kind of stillness.  Death, buzzards, autumn; the haiku is united by an abundance of yin imagery which creates a seamless presentation.  So even though the haiku is in two parts, those two parts being deliberately compared to each other, they are energetically united.  This brings the two parts into an unstated, and subtle, unity.  This is really an excellent example of using a western poetic technique and uniting it with the energetics of yin and yang upon which Japanese haiku is grounded.  And it is done effortlessly, with no sense of self-consciousness or cleverness.

201

Over spring mountains

A star ends the paragraph

Of a thunderstorm.

This is a wonderful metaphor that links the world of writing with the world of astronomy; that is to say the human and celestial worlds are intertwined in this haiku.  I think it also refers to the common habit humans have of talking about the weather.  Weather events are ‘paragraphs’ in our conversation.  But because the weather is ever changing, any specific event is simply a paragraph in the overall saga of the weather.  Just as a paragraph in a book, no matter how interesting, is just part of a longer story.  The linkage to a star points to a domain that transcends all of these changes in a gentle way, by pointing to the source of beauty.

Personification is a feature used frequently in Wright’s collection.  Personification in this collection is the attribution of human motives to non-human things.  These can be living things such as animals and plants, or they can be inanimate objects as well. 

229

Fierce sunflowers

Have forced every cloud fleece

Out of the hot sky.

Here the sunflowers are described as ‘fierce’, a descriptor normally reserved for a type of human action.  In addition, the haiku depicts a causal link between ‘fierce sunflowers’ and the hot, cloudless sky, as if the sunflowers were responsible for the way the sky looks.  This kind of paradoxical causation is also a frequent feature of Wright’s haiku.  What is being described here is a kind of resonance, or a causal synchronicity, rather than a billiard ball type of causation.  Yet this kind of causation does operate in our lives; we feel it, we sense it, but it is difficult to articulate.  Wright’s ability to uncover these kinds of relationships is one of the treasures of his collection.

643

In the autumn air,

Distant mountains are dreaming

Of autumns to come.

The idea of nature dreaming is encountered now and then in poetry.  Wright picks up on this theme.  There is a shift in time in this haiku that makes it attractive to me.  The shift is from the sense of the season’s flow from a human perspective, to the sense of the season’s flow from the perspective of a mountain.  Mountains have a longer perspective; this autumn is just one of many autumns, countless autumns.  This time-shift is gracefully shown in this haiku through the use of personification.

203

Did somebody call?

Looking over my shoulder:

Massive spring mountains.

This haiku has received critical acclaim from reviewers for its mysterious tone and moving effect.  I believe the effectiveness of this haiku is due in no small part to its use of personification; the sense we have all felt, at times, of nature actually speaking to us.

Personification, in my opinion, isn’t just a technique in Wright’s haiku.  Personification depicts a world in which awareness and consciousness permeate the cosmos.  From this perspective it is legitimate to attribute to things, both animate and inanimate, psychological states, motivations, and prehensions.  Wright’s haiku remind me, in many ways, of Whitehead’s view found in Process and Reality.  I’m not suggesting that Wright studied Whitehead or that he was a ‘process poet’; but I do find the world view of these two remarkably similar.  That view is that awareness is not an add-on to existence but rather is an inherent factor that is found everywhere, not just in human beings.

There are more examples I could quote showing, for example, how Wright uses metrics, alliteration, allusion, synecdoche, and anaphora, among other devices.  Wright also constructs his haiku using different techniques including; the single sentence, the pivot, the juxtaposition, and the list.  All of these are used skillfully. 

All of this points to the great gift of Wright’s work: the integration of the western poetic heritage into the haiku form.  This is the great lesson I have slowly learned, and continue to learn, from studying Richard Wright’s haiku: that it is possible to welcome the western poetic tradition with open arms.  At times I feel that some western haiku poets have almost an adversarial relationship to the western tradition.  In a way this is understandable; if you are attracted to a non-western poetic tradition, it makes sense that you would question the western poetic tradition, or aspects of it, in order to access the non-western tradition.  If you were completely satisfied with the western tradition it is doubtful you would look outside of that context.  So I can understand the impulse as at times I have shared it.

Yet, ultimately, I think that Wright’s approach is more fruitful.  Wright’s approach is one that builds upon the past in a constructive way.  That is why, I think, that Wright’s haiku are so effective; because they resonate deeply with the heritage of verse with which we are all already familiar.  Yet, at the same time, transforms that heritage by placing it in a new context.  It is an amazing achievement.

Syllabic Haiku Day 2013

Greetings:

Today is Syllabic Haiku Day; a day set aside to celebrate the tradition of Syllabic Haiku in English.  Haiku is the most widely practiced syllabic form in English.  It is practiced by a wide range of poets, from complete amateurs to professionals at Universities.  Recent developments in Syllabic Haiku that I have observed are; the emergence of the Haiku Stanza Poem, and the Epigram Haiku (pithy thoughts expressed in 5-7-5 syllabic form).  I hope to have more to say about the Epigram Haiku in the near future.

Take some time today to read or reread some syllabic Haiku, or compose some of your own to add to the already rich tradition.

Sogi Day for 2013

Greetings:

Today is Sogi day; the anniversary of Sogi's passing.  Sogi is my favorite Japanese poet. He was a Renga Master, meaning he not only participated in Renga, he also taught Renga.

For me Sogi is a particular inspiration.  Sogi wrote several solo Hyakuin (100 Verse) Renga.  Two of these have been translated and annotated.  It was the Hyakuin Solo Renga, 'Sogi Alone', written towards the end of Sogi's life, that inspired me to compose solo Renga.  One of the writing projects I referred to in my previous post is to pull these solo Renga together and, using print-on-demand technology, publish them.  I have discovered that I have written a large quantity of these over the years.  And it is all due to Sogi's influence.

Many thanks,

Jim

Elizabeth Daryush Day for 2013: Women in Syllabic Poetry

Today is Elizabeth Daryush Day (12-8-1887 to 4-7-1977).  Daryush is one of the significant pioneers in the use of syllabics for English language poetry.  I am particularly taken by her syllabic approach to the sonnet.

Because it's slow at the store, I'm going to take a moment to note in passing something I have observed about syllabic poetry in English: that is the prominence of women poets writing syllabics.  Consider:

Adelaide Crapsey: The first poet to propose a syllabic form for the English language.
Edith Shiffert: A fine syllabic haijin and renga poet.
Marianne Moore: Who is famous for her syllabic approach.
Helen Craig McCullough: Who used a consistent syllabic approach in English in her translations of Japanese poetry.
Etheree Taylor Armstrong: Who proposed the Etheree syllabic form.
Susan August: A contemporary syllabic haijin.

It's not that syllabic English poetry is only women; but notice the prominence of women.  There are, of course, significant male syllabic poets; the most important is, I think, Richard Wright.  And Wright is known for having a deep empathy for women, which comes through in his Haiku as well as his other writings.

Again, there are important male syllabic poets, such as James Hackett.  Still, the pivotal role that women have played in English syllabic verse is worth noting.  I'm not sure what it means or if there is some significance to be extracted from this.

Jim

Helen Craig McCullough Day for 2013

Just a quick note as I arrived at work early:  Today is Helen Craig McCullough Day.  She is the eminent translator of the Waka Kokinshu, an ancient collection of over 1000 Tanka/Waka.  Waka Kokinshu is the most influential collection of Tanka in Japan.  McCullough, however, didn't just provide us with a wonderful translation; which would be an accomplishment in itself.  McCullough has also demonstrated the efficacy of using the 5-7-5-7-7 syllabics in English because McCullough followed the traditional syllabic shape in her translations into English.  The result is an astonishingly vivid collection of English poetry which, I believe, will form the basis for the emergence of Tanka in the English speaking world.

Best wishes,

Jim

Quatrain Day

Greetings:

Today is April 4th, 4/4: what better day than today to celebrate the syllabic quatrain?  Here I am particularly focusing on the single verse quatrain; things like the single verse quatrain found in Chinese classical poetry, or the Rubai of Persia/Iran, or the Englynn from Wales, etc.  The single verse syllabic Quatrain is found in widely diverse cultures.  It is a great form, marvelously flexible, it is also often highly memorable with a sing-song, lyrical quality to it.

Take some time today to read some Quatrains from classical Chinese, Persian, or Welsh sources.  If so inclined, pen one, or more, of your own.

Syllabic Renga Day -- 2013

Syllabic Renga Day – 2013

Renga is my favorite form of poetry.  It is a challenge; a complex form in some ways it resembles learning chess.  In other ways Renga resembles putting together some complex recipe where certain ingredients are required in just the right measure; in addition the ingredients have to be added in a particular sequence.  If done correctly, you have a splendid meal.  If a Renga is done correctly, you have a splendid poem.

When I initially engaged with Renga I followed free verse lineation because that’s what everyone was doing.  My sense is that this style of lineation is followed because almost all of the participants in English Language Renga (ELR) have become interested in Renga from their practice of free verse haiku.  It is natural that they would apply to Renga their free verse approach to lineation.

The change for me came from reading translations of Renga into English which sought to mimic the syllabic shape of the Japanese.  Two translators in particular were influential: Earl Miner and Stephen Carter.  What I learned from these translators (in addition to specific procedures for Renga composition) was the value of following the traditional syllabic shape.  It’s not that these translators were advocates for following the traditional syllabics in ELR; but in their translations they made a strong effort to mimic the syllabics of the Japanese in English and that functioned as a demonstration of the efficacy of such an approach.

I was greatly encouraged last year when I discovered Edith Shiffert’s early solo Hyakuin Renga; a classic 100 Verse Renga in the traditional eight parts.  Shiffert’s Hyakuin Renga maintains the traditional syllabic shape of Japanese Renga.  I had not been aware of Shiffert’s efforts in Renga, but finding this remarkable example has really confirmed for me my intuition about the importance of syllabics for the Renga form: even in ELR.

The unique feature of Renga is its overall non-narrative structure and how the rules that guide the Renga poet are designed to undermine the tendency to narrative.  This is what gives Renga its unique esthetic place in the world of poetry.  But, then, what holds a Renga together?  What makes it feel like it is, overall, a poem?

My feeling is that a regular syllabic structure functions to hold all the images together.  Without a regular syllabic structure the tendency for the images of a Renga to isolate themselves from each other becomes stronger.  The 5-7-5 and 7-7 syllabic shape serves to function as a kind underlying framework upon which all the images hang.  Or, to use one of my favorite metaphors for Renga, the syllabic shape resembles a current of a river that the reader is gliding upon as the images flow past.  Again, without this current a Renga tends to have the feel of a series of isolated images rather than the unity of a journey.  Without the underlying unifying current of the syllabic pulse a Renga tends to read like a sequence of poems; with the underlying current the Renga itself has the feel of being a single, unified, poem.

At any rate, that’s how I have come to think about it.  So I have set aside this day to encourage the use of traditional syllabics in English Language Renga.  If you already know one of the 12-verse forms, try composing one using the traditional syllabic contours.  If you are a minimalist Haiku poet, this may at first feel awkward; but remember that Renga verses are not a series of Haiku.  Only the first verse of a Renga should have a Haiku-like feeling.  So allow yourself to add words to fill out the syllabic count.  I know that will feel like ‘padding’.  But what I am getting at is that adding words to fill out the count might be a good thing if by adding those words you create a stronger sense of rhythmic flow from one verse to another.  Try it out and see for yourself.  I think you will be pleasantly surprised.

Etheree Day for 2013

Etheree Day – 2013

Today is Etheree Day.  This is the day we set aside to celebrate the Etheree syllabic form.  Since learning about the Etheree I have had a lot of fun with it.  I find the simplicity of the form highly attractive.  The basic form is a 10-line poem.  The first line has 1 syllable, the second line 2 syllables, on up to the tenth line which has 10 syllables.  The overall structure is 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10; for a total count of 55 syllables.

There is something really charming about this form.  I first started writing Etheree in earnest when I set the word ‘tea’ as the first line.  My day job is working at a tea shop and spiritual bookstore (since this blog don’t pay the bills).  I began writing a bunch of Etheree all starting with the word ‘tea’.  And about 25 ‘tea’ Etheree just tumbled out.  Lots of fun.  It has occurred to me that if I were to teach the Etheree form one way to do it would be to have everyone in the class compose an Etheree with a shared first line.  That opening one syllable line.  I could use ‘spring’ or ‘June’ or ‘moon’, etc.  Then everyone take off from there.  I think it would be interesting to see how different people would go in different directions from that first word/line. 

People who compose Etheree have experimented with form variations.  There is, for example, the reverse Etheree: 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1.  And then there are various combinations of the forward and reverse types.

I found that in some of my Etheree I wanted to go beyond the last 10-syllable line; it’s like I was on a role and out came the 11-syllable, 12-syllable, and etc., lines.  I think the longest line I worked up to was 14 syllables.  But these longer Etheree still feel like the same form to me because of the gradual unfolding, syllable by syllable, line by line.  The pace of the unfolding stays the same.

Lately I have written some Etheree is which I hover over a particular line length before going on to the next longer line.  Something like this: 1-2-3-3-4-5-5-5-6-7-8-8-9-10.  This makes for an overall longer poem, but it still has the feeling of an Etheree to me; a kind of slowed-down version of the process of unfolding.

There is another aspect to the Etheree form which I enjoy.  Because the Etheree is a new form, I find there is a great sense of freedom in how to use it.  If I want to rhyme, I’ll rhyme.  Or not.  If I want to focus on subject X, Y, or Z, I’ll go ahead.  There is not a long tradition behind the form, so I don’t get the feeling of looking over my shoulder at what predecessors did.  At times that can be intimidating to a poet.  For example, when writing a sonnet, so many of our greatest poets have written such magnificent sonnets that it can feel kind of impertinent to try to find one’s own way in the sonnet landscape, so to speak.  With the Etheree I don’t get that sense.  And there is no National Society of the True Etheree Way issuing lists of do’s and don’t’s as to correct Etheree procedure.  All of this makes my experience writing Etheree very enjoyable.  And yet the Etheree is formal syllabic verse so there is a sense of discipline and focus in the form, just as in other syllabic forms.  It’s a captivating balance of freedom and focus.

My basic approach to Etheree is to think of the opening, very short lines, particularly the first line, as resembling a seed, a thought seed, out of which the rest of the Etheree emerges.  My tendency is to use the first three or four lines to write a list; and the list is the setting for the poem as a whole.  Words like ‘dawn’, ‘dusk’, ‘night’, ‘cold’, ‘sun’, ‘moon’, words the give a broad sense of place and/or time.  Then with each subsequent lines details are added, until the Etheree becomes a complete picture.  Here is an Etheree I wrote a few months ago:

Gap

Parting

In the sky

Between the clouds

Over a rainbow

A few angels hover

Gathering the pray’rs from earth

Pray’rs that come from green fields of grass

Pray’rs that come from the waves of the sea

Pray’rs on behalf of all humanity

So if you are inclined, compose an Etheree today, share it with some friends.  The structure is so simple anyone can learn it in a few minutes.  And it is always a good thing to share poetry with friends.

Tanka Day: 2013

Tanka Day: 2013

Today is the day set aside to celebrate the Tanka form of poetry.  It is one of the great traditions of formal syllabic verse.  It is a Japanese form that has a written history of about 1400 years.  During all these centuries the formal structure has remained the same: a five line (or ‘ku’) form of 5-7-5-7-7 syllables, a total of 31 syllables.   (A free verse 5-line poem in Japanese is called ‘Gogyoshi’, or sometimes, ‘Gogyohka’.)

Tanka is the seed form for all Japanese poetry.  Both Renga and Haiku ultimately have their origin in Tanka and the form remains central to Japanese poetry today.

The transmission of Tanka has been slow, much slower than Haiku.  Whereas Haiku is widely practiced in the U.S., Tanka has a much more muted presence.  Yet there are poets who compose in the Tanka form.  And through the new technologies they publish their work through print-on-demand outlets.  I thought this would be an appropriate day to review two new collections of Tanka, both published in 2012.

The first is simply titled ‘Tanka’, it is by Steve Townsend.  Townsend’s collection is a set of introspections, thoughts, and landscapes.  In tone Townsend reminds me somewhat of James Hackett, though perhaps not as explicitly philosophical.  The two poets also have a similar relationship to lineation: I mean that both of these poets are as likely to go beyond the traditional line count as they are to write under the traditional line count.  Here’s an example of a long-lined Tanka:

Past the darkest sky

into that infinite universe of stars

I launch my thoughts tonight,

and they fall back heavily to earth

I must go to sleep once again.

It’s a nice portrait of how mental activity can generate sleeplessness.  Notice the long count: Line 2 has 11 syllables, Line 4 has 9, and Line 5 has 8.  Yet the overall shape of classic Tanka is retained.  For Townsend the 5-7-5-7-7 is the center of gravity for the form, but it’s clear to me that he is treating the form as a recipe with variations.  I think he does an effective job.  Townsend has a sure grasp of lineation.  Almost always a line is a secure grammatical unit with run-ons practically nonexistent.  In a few of the Tanka the lines are rhyme defined.  Here is an example:

Cicadas no longer sing

and the tall trees begin to change

to bright red and gold,

the air has begun to chill

as the sun falls below the hills.

Again, notice the long Line 1 of 7 syllables, followed by Line 2 of 8.  Lines 4 and 5 end- rhyme effectively.  I think this is well done.  I like Townsend’s efforts.  The tendency to compose in longer lines gives his Tanka a sense of expansiveness and lyricism that I think you will enjoy.

The second collection is “River of Time” by Robert W. Barker.  It is subtitled ‘Six Seasons of Tanka’.  The six seasons are achieved by dividing winter into three separate periods such as ‘Early Winter’.  This is a Tanka diary.  The fact that it is a diary shapes the presentation.  What you are going to read are the thoughts and observations one would normally find in a diary, but in Tanka form.  It covers one year.

Barker is more committed to the 5-7-5-7-7 and doesn’t deviate from the classic syllable count.  One advantage of this is that as you read from one Tanka to another a steady rhythm is generated and they flow easily into each other.  These Tanka are, at times, very personal.  Here is one called ‘Alzheimers’:

Patiently she sits,

And holds their worlds together,

As he loses his;

Leaving, she turns, touches me,

“Pray you do not die this way.”

Like Townsend, Barker’s lineation is securely centered on grammatical phrasing.  As far as I was able to note, run-ons are non-existent.  This adds to the sense of rightness and shapes the Tanka well.  It is also a good demonstration of how naturally English can be shaped into phrases of 5 and 7 syllables.

Both of these books are short.  ‘Tanka’ by Townsend is 63 pages, and ‘River of Time’ is 63 pages as well.  ‘Tanka’ has two Tanka per page, while ‘River of Time’ has less than one Tanka per page, with some pages blank.  This makes ‘River of Time’ a small collection.

Interestingly, neither of these poets tell us what drew them to the Tanka form.  There are no ‘Introductions’ that let us know if they have a history with Tanka and/or Japanese poetry.  I suspect that they were introduced to the Tanka form in a class, perhaps a book of forms, or by a friend.  And the form resonated with them. 

If you are interested in syllabic Tanka in English both of these collections are worthy of one’s attention. 

Tanka

By Steven Townsend

ISBN: 9781475022179

Available at Amazon

River of Time:

Six Seasons of Tanka

By Robert W. Barker

9781475937541

Published by iUniverse

$8.95

Available also at Amazon

Richard Wright Day -- 2012

Richard Wright Day, 2012

Today is the day to celebrate the life of Richard Wright, September 4, 1908 to November 28, 1960.  And I think of this day as a day to specifically focus on Wright’s contribution to English language Haiku and from there to English syllabic verse in general.

Wright’s accomplishments cannot be overstated.  In his collection of 817 Haiku, selected from over 4,000 he wrote in the last 18 months of his life, published posthumously in 1998, Wright singlehandedly affirmed and established the efficacy of a syllabic approach to Haiku.  Wright accomplished this not by writing theoretical essays about the nature of the English and Japanese languages, or by issuing prosodic guidelines.  Wright accomplished this simply by composing a body of haiku that are so excellent that they make their own case.

What Wright accomplished was to compose Haiku in such a manner that they read as if Haiku were native to the English language instead of a borrowed form.  Instead of subjecting English to odd and uncomfortable rules of syntactic deletion (the approach of Haiku minimalism), Wright’s Haiku are full-bodied English; a flowing natural English. 

Here is #495 from his collection:

Through the church window,

Into the holy water,

A dry leaf flutters.

Notice the naturalness of the phrasing.  The Haiku consists of a single sentence, broken into three, grammatically succinct, parts.  The setting is a church.  At first we are looking at (up at?) a window, perhaps a stained glass window.  Then there is the added detail of the place of the holy water, probably somewhere near the altar.  The season is depicted by the phrase ‘dry leaf’.  The only motion in the Haiku is the drifting, or fluttering of the leaf from the open window into the water.  Did the leaf make a sound?  Is there the sound of wind coming through the window?  Is there anyone in the church?  The motion of the leaf leaves me with an impression of background stillness which is implied rather than stated, and, perhaps, prayer.  This is a quiet, contemplative, Haiku.  There is a sense of holiness permeating the moment and a sense of unity is suggested between the human and natural worlds; a kind of benediction.

The Haiku follows the 5-7-5 syllabic contours of classic Haiku.  Notice also the understated rhyme between lines 2 and 3; water/flutters.  Wright doesn’t often use rhyme.  On the other hand Wright doesn’t exclude rhyme when it appears naturally as in this Haiku.

There is another aspect of this Haiku which I think gives it a sense of unity: each line contains four words.  And these four words are distributed such that each line contains a single article; lines 1 and 2 use ‘the’, and line 3 uses ‘a’.  Notice also how each line ends with a two syllable word and that all of these words are trochees, giving an overall rhythmic unity to the poem.

Lines 1 and 2 each begin with a preposition of motion; ‘through’ and ‘into’.  And line 3 concludes with a verb, ‘flutters’.  This gives the Haiku the sense of drift, motion, against the background of the still church. 

It is this kind of crafting that I find so admirable in Wright’s Haiku.  Fine craftsmanship united with focused imagery are what makes Wright’s Haiku so attractive and memorable.  I have learned so much from Wright’s work.  Wright has shown us all the way to a truly English language Haiku; an approach which is completely at home with the English language.  

It is a pleasure to set aside this day to offer my gratitude and thanks.

Fibonacci Day -- Hooray!

This will have to be a short post because I've been out of town visiting my brother and his family.  But I couldn't let the day pass without reminding all of us that today is Fibonacci Day.  November 23rd is 11/23; the first four syllable counts of the first four lines of the Fibonacci.  The six line form is: 1 - 1 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 8.  The seven line form is 1 - 1 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 8 - 13.  It is an opended form, but the six line and seven line forms are the most frequent.

Fib's, as they are affectionately called, are great fun.  Write a Fib today.  Visit the Fib Review (listed at the side of this blog).  Tell friends about Fibs; they will appreciate it.

Hooray for the fascinating Fibonacci!!!

Neal Henry Lawrence Day 2012

Neal Henry Lawrence Day 2012

Today is November 3^rd, Neal Henry Lawrence Day.  Lawrence (January 22, 1908 to November 3, 2004), in the last phase of his long and varied life, lived in Japan as a member, a Priest, in the Order of Saint Benedict.  He lived in Tokyo during this period and that is where Father Lawrence learned about Tanka.

Father Lawrence was the first to produce a significant body of English language Tanka following the traditional syllabic construction of five lines in 5-7-5-7-7.  His work is, therefore, groundbreaking.  It is also well crafted.  English language Tanka poets can learn much from reading his works.

I think of Neal Henry Lawrence as the Patron Saint of English Language Tanka.  Here is one from his second book, ‘Rushing Amid Tears’:

Yellow as old lace

On my grandmother’s treasured

Wedding dress of silk.

The aging gardenia

Floated in the dark blue bowl.

Today would be a good day to compose a formal Tanka, using the Tanka recipe of 5-7-5-7-7 syllables; a recipe which has been used for over 1400 years. 

For those interested in reading a little about Brother Lawrence, Saint John’s Abby has a page about him:

http://www.saintjohnsabbey.org/lawrence/index.html

Grandmother of Form: Adelaide Crapsey Day 2012

Grandmother of Form

Today is Adelaide Crapsey day, the anniversary of her passing.  I think of Crapsey as the Grandmother of English Syllabic Verse.  Her meticulous research into English prosody, her analyses of the syllabic structure of English, laid a foundation from which she was able to intuit a different approach to writing English poetry.  Because her life was so short (September 9, 1878 to October 8, 1914) she was not able to complete her projects.  But she was able to lay the foundation for a syllabic approach to English poetry.  Simply by creating a syllabic form, the Cinquain, Crapsey demonstrated the efficacy of English syllabic verse.

At the time Crapsey was writing and doing research metrical poetry still dominated.  The avant-garde was, however, beginning to emerge and ‘verse libre’ was making significant inroads.  But Crapsey steered a course that offered a different alternative; neither a traditional metrical one nor one grounded in free verse.  Evidently this was not easy for her to do.  The research she did into English prosody must have been very time consuming: she literally counted all of the one and two syllable words in works like ‘Paradise Lost’ and this was long before the use of computers or other technological assists.  In other words, she counted them all by hand. 

Why did she do this?  My sense is that she had an intuition that the predominance of one and two syllable words in English was significant for English language prosody.  But she needed to feel a strong foundation for this intuition.  The predominance of these short words tilts English towards a syllabic approach in the same way that a language like Chinese, consisting of one-count words, single syllables, lends itself to a syllabic approach to poetry.

There are other poets who made significant contributions towards a syllabic approach such as Dylan Thomas and Marianne Moore.  But neither of these poets created a specific English syllabic form, a form that others could use.  This is why I consider Crapsey to be the most significant of the early English syllabic poets, because she saw the possibility of a specific syllabic form for the English language.  This, I believe, is a crucial step in establishing English syllabic verse.

So let’s take a moment to express our gratitude to Adelaide, the Mother of Form.

Cinquain Day 2012

Cinquain Day 2012

Good Morning:

Today is Cinquain Day; a day set aside to express our appreciation for the Cinquain.  This form is also known as the Crapsey Cinquain or the American Cinquain.  It is the creation of the poet Adelaide Crapsey, 1878 – 1914.

The Cinquain is a five-line form: 2-4-6-8-2, for a total of 22 syllables.  It is the first syllabic form that I know of created in an English language context.  My own experience with the form is that it is a difficult form to master.  It is the final 2-syllable line that often vexes the poet.  It is crucial to get that last line just right.  But when it is done right the Cinquain has a strong sense of closure and cadence; that 2-syllable ending can feel like a perfect frame around a picture, or the final brushstroke of a painting.

The Cinquain has developed a small, but loyal, following.  There are forums for this form, poets who specialize in it, and it seems to have found its way into the school curriculum.  Some teachers I know have told me that in grade school when they teach a poetry unit to young students the Cinquain is one of the forms that they use.

So on this day let’s acknowledge our appreciation for this jewel of a form.  You might read some Cinquain, or perhaps compose one of your own.  Give it a try; you’ll find it is a challenge and a delight.